


wrap me in your jacket (and lay me in your bed)

by kaffeine_headache



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Galra Keith (Voltron), Idiots in Love, Light Bondage, M/M, Not Voltron: Legendary Defender Season/Series 08 Compliant, Rimming, S8 doesnt exist, Shiro Teaches Keith to Suck Cock, Virgin Keith (Voltron), like blink and you'll miss it Galra Keith, they just really love each other okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19403173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaffeine_headache/pseuds/kaffeine_headache
Summary: The one where Shiro gives Keith his old jacket. Or,He’s going to die, again, and this time it’s all Keith’s fault.





	wrap me in your jacket (and lay me in your bed)

**Author's Note:**

> sheith are in love and s8 doesn't exist. my first contribution to the fandom and the first fic I've written in years bc sheith is that powerful. basically this is my love letter to them <3

Shiro doesn’t call it a day until about 1900 hours when he starts to feel the tell tale pulse of a headache start behind his eyeballs. Staring at data pads and presentation projections all day is never good on the eyes, and Slav badgering him with stats about making _ATLAS_ more effective was making a vein throb in his temple _. “By my calculations, the probability of the_ ATLAS _exploding decreases by 17% if the shielding systems were integrated with-_ ” _“This is more a discussion for Commander Holt, isn’t it?”_

Apparently it wasn’t because _You are the captain of the_ ATLAS _!,_ or whatever. Doesn’t matter that he has no clue what Slav’s talking about, even though he’s studied the schematics and spent hours with Sam in engineering; the integration of Garrison and Altean tech together is a nightmare to unpack and Shiro is no engineer. That discussion dragged on for another hour before Shiro finally shooed Slav to the lab before he actually threw him out of the window. His office is on one of the very top floors and it’s a hell of a way down. 

He needs to find Keith, build another pillowfort, and take refuge in his arms before he throws _himself_ out the window. 

He tosses the data pad haphazardly onto his desk and leans back in his chair, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees splotches of color. Pidge would yell at him for not being more careful with their tech because _That’s expensive!_ and that makes his lips quirk up. He hasn’t seen much of her lately, between Paladin training and working with her parents and Matt on various coalition things that he doesn’t need to worry about just yet. She seems at peace nowadays, finally reunited with her family after so long in space. Lance and Hunk, too. 

It’s what they deserve after risking their lives for an intergalactic space war that wasn’t even theirs. 

Seeing Keith with his mom is still a trip, and even _hearing_ mom is wild. Shiro remembers the time Keith first opened up to him about his parentage during one of their first hoverbike outings: no mom, but his dad had been a firefighter, a mountain of a man with gentle hands, a low drawl, and a penchant for really bad jokes. 

_"You know what his favorite joke was?”_

_"Hit me.”_

_“Okay: what’s brown and sticky?”_

_“Um…?”_

_“A stick.”_

_“...oh my God.”_

_“Shiro, no-”_

That became Shiro’s favorite joke and Keith learned his lesson about Shiro’s equally awful sense of humor.

He had begun piecing the puzzle of Keith together that day, learning to understand the person he was to be a better friend to him. Receptive as he was to Shiro’s kindness and friendship, he carried wariness around him like a jacket; never cold, just never shared more than he needed or wanted to up until that point. Slow going as it had been, they became best friends in the end. 

Stories of his dad would pop up more frequently after that fateful jump off a cliff that had Keith wide-eyed and gleaming; about how they once had horses on their land and they would ride as close to the Galaxy Garrison border as they dared and watched the jets take off from the southend runway, or the time his dad had his firehouse buddies over one night and he taught Keith how to kick Tom Jenkin’s ass at poker.

In the mornings when Shiro has Keith wrapped up in his arms, his body pliant and sleep warm and they’re whispering to each other before their days start, Keith’s voice takes on a slight drawl in a way Shiro imagines his father talked. It only comes out when he’s bleary eyed and sleepy, and Shiro clocked it a few times back in their early Garrison days when he’d come drag Keith out of his dorm room in the early morning to go do something stupid. 

It was as adorable then as it is now; the only difference is that now when it’s paired with heavy lidded smokey eyes and fingers in a slow strut up his sternum, it sends a warm burn through his body like a shot of whiskey. Shiro has a thing for southern accents (read: _Keith’s_ accent) now.

Shiro just has a thing for Keith in general, he knows. He has for a long time, which he finally told Keith about a little after he was released from the hospital. That talk turned into hours sitting on Shiro’s couch in his quarters, tears in their eyes and tissues on the floor, breaking their own hearts and putting the pieces together again, handling every shard with tender hands. First it was the fight and Shiro’s guilt eating him alive, then it was his death as Keith choked on his tears remembering he lost the one person he can’t live without. Shiro kissed him that night, salty tears and “I love you”s on their lips. That kiss, and every one since, felt like coming home.

Their relationship is still delicate and new, working in the time for each other after busy days as newly appointed Second Admiral and Leader of Voltron. It’s a slow and steady progression as it builds naturally: Shiro’s hand on his thigh underneath the table at meetings, thumb rubbing circles on the fabric of his uniform pants; slow makeouts on the coach in the evenings after dinner, exhausted from a day of training; Keith’s mouth on Shiro’s neck in the early morning; Keith slowly immigrating to Shiro’s officer quarters from his own smaller room; learning to slow dance in the living room at 2 AM because their internal clocks are still out of whack.

A ping from his data pad brings him back. The screen lights up with a little paper airplane icon at the top indicating a message, followed by the sender **_Keith_ **. His body immediately feels lighter, the achiness from before dissipating. He leans over the desk to tap the banner, bringing up the conversation history with Keith. 

you still working

 **Keith** 19:03

Just finishing up, I’ll be down in 10. What time did you get in?

 **Me** 19:04

gotcha. maybe 2 hours ago, thought i’d give it a bit before i bothered you

 **Keith** 19:04

Never a bother, baby. See you soon. 

**Me** 19:05

<3

 **Keith** 19:05

Heart fluttering in his chest, he can’t get the data pad tucked into his pocket and lock his office fast enough. He almost trips into the hallway on his way out because he tries to get his hand on the scanner faster than the rest of his body is going. Door locked, he makes his way back to his quarters. 

The walk takes a lot longer than he remembers. 

Shiro heaves a heavy sigh when he finally comes to his door. Pressing his hand to the scanner on the wall, the door hisses open and the tension of the day leaves his body when the sight of Keith greets him first. 

Keith’s back is to him as he leans on the island counter in their little kitchen, a steaming mug in front of him and idly swiping through his pad. His hip is cocked to the side, taking most of his weight on his left leg. The stance shows off his shoulder blades through the loose white tee he has on, and Shiro shamelessly rakes his eyes over his backside.

Keith bought those jeans a few months ago in one of the markets outside the Garrison just after he was released from the hospital. He’d been stir crazy with how long he was cooped up but Shiro wasn’t able to break up his schedule enough to take him out, so Hunk invited him to tag along with him since he was going to do some shopping.

He came back with new civilian clothes and _those_ life ruiners. They had been a little baggy on him at first; he lost mass during recovery, but regular training had him gaining it back fast and now those jeans are basically a second skin and Shiro’s been spending a lot of time taking showers with his fist in his mouth. 

Patience yields focus, patience yields focus, _patience yield-_

“Hey you.” 

Keith cocks an eyebrow, the edge of his mouth curling, “You plan on coming in anytime soon, or…?” He lazily gestures Shiro inward.

Shiro smiles and shakes his head, finally moving into the room.

“Just enjoying the view is all,” he comments, cupping Keith’s nape before pressing a kiss to his brow, “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How was your day?” 

Leaning into his touch, Keith closes his eyes and hums, enjoying the subtle warmth of the large prosthetic. “Training this morning was hell. First year cadets never listen,” he grumbles, abandoning whatever he was doing on his data pad in favor of leaning into Shiro’s side. 

Shiro nods and makes a sound of acknowledgment, his metal hand moving to slide down Keith’s back. He starts tracing his spine, up and down, the touch settling them both. Shiro plunks his chin on top of Keith’s head, lips twitching at the little _‘ow’_ Keith mumbles into his jacket. He remedies it and switches to his cheek, feeling the soft strands on his skin. 

“That’s no good, s’a long day when they do that,” he says. His tone is sugary sweet with empathy as his fingers continue their glide on Keith’s back, occasionally smoothing up his side and over his hip. “Even worse when they start getting in fights, stealing your car, calling you old…” 

Keith’s reaction is a little delayed with how content he was pressed to Shiro’s side, even humming his agreement before he stills. He pinches Shiro’s side, earning a squawk before Shiro darts out of Keith’s reach, laughing as he puts the counter between them. 

“Jackass,” Keith mutters, reaching for his mug and taking a sip, using the cup to hide his grin and blushing cheeks. The toothy smile on Shiro’s face is worth the dig. 

“Don’t boo me, I’m right.”

“Whatever.” 

Shiro snickers. “So the cadets gave you a hard time, huh? Should I ask how it went with the MFEs?”

Keith had gone back to his spot at the end of the counter and he muffles a groan in the pillow of his arms. “No. That went to shit so fast. Me and James are cool now, but we still just—” He brings his fists together, twisting them to imitate something like grinding gears. 

Shiro nods, reaching into the cupboard for a glass and turning the tap for water. “The dynamic’s not there yet.” 

The look Keith gives him is all he needs to know. 

“Give it time, baby, you’ll get it.”

“Time is something we seem to always be short on,” Keith mumbles. Over the rim of his glass, Shiro watches him pick at his shirt and wipe imaginary crumbs off the counter. His heart stings, knowing the thoughts running through his mind.

“Keith…” 

He gets a distracted hum in response so he switches tact. Shiro makes his way around the island and lightly hip checks him, making Keith stumble a step over. The glare sent his way makes him laugh and reach to take Keith’s hand. 

“It’ll get better, Keith. You two have very similar leadership styles, and it takes time to make new team dynamics work. Remember trying to form Voltron on Arus that first time?” 

Keith snorted and started fiddling with Shiro’s fingers. “Fucking train wreck.”

“Fucking. Train. Wreck.” Shiro punctuates each word with a kiss to the back of Keith’s hand. “Complete disaster. But we got it in the end, right?” 

“Sure, right before Sendak’s ion cannon almost blew up the Castle.” 

Shiro shrugs. “Sometimes high steaks make the gel stick.” 

Keith spares an amused glance at him with a smile tugging at his lips, “I’ll keep that in mind next time his stupid jet flies in front of my face. Warning shot wouldn’t hurt too bad, right?” 

“Keith, no.” 

“You can’t tell me what to do, _Captain_.” 

“That's _Admiral_ to you, _cadet_.”

“I’m Team Leader now, that jurisdiction doesn’t work on me. I just wear that ugly ass orange uniform for shits and gigs.” 

“It is really ugly,” Shiro mumbles his agreement. “It looks good on you, though.” 

Keith’s grinning now, the MFE fiasco forgotten for now. Mission accomplished. 

“I bet you made it work, huh,” Keith flirts, walking his fingers up Shiro’s arm. “There’s no way you can look bad in anything.” 

Shiro’s shaking his head before Keith’s finished his sentence.

“Oh, nuh uh. My early cadet years I was a bean pole with braces; long, skinny neck, toothpick arms and legs. You ever seen a giraffe? How they fight? That’s how I fought in hand-to-hand, just-” He demonstrates by throwing his head around, lightly knocking their heads together. Keith buries his face in Shiro’s shoulder, breathless laughter making his body shake. Shiro muffles his chuckles in Keith’s hair. “I never showed you pictures? I’ll have to find some, I didn’t get bulky and beautiful ‘til I was like, eighteen.” 

“S-Shut up,” Keith wheezes, pulling away to swat at him. Shiro catches his hand again and places kisses on the back, flips it over to repeat on the palm. Keith’s face goes soft, a blush feathering prettily across his nose. Shiro closes his eyes as he lays a kiss so soft to the center of his palm and cradles the back with his own larger hand. With his eyes closed, his long eyelashes fan over his high cheekbones and Keith thinks it’s so fucking unfair he has to watch this because Shiro is _stunning_ and he’s stealing the breath right out of his lungs-

Shiro lurches when Keith pinches his nose shut. 

“What was that for?” he whines, rubbing his nose. It doesn’t hurt, but it’ll make Keith baby him if he pretends he’s hurt. Keith is wide-eyed and already shooing Shiro’s hands away to look. 

“Sorry, I-” _panicked_ , “-didn’t mean to. It tickled.” 

Shiro has already read between the lines. He knows Keith, knows how sometimes little affectionate gestures make his heart beat a little too fast and the small stray cat in him freaks out. He shushes him and kisses his forehead. 

“Anyway, did you find anything good in the markets with Hunk?” 

Keith takes a sip from his mug to quench his panic-induced dryness and shrugs. “Kinda. Found a cool knife. Haven’t found another jacket just yet, though,” he grumbles, “I miss my red one.”

Shiro purses his lips before promptly getting up and walking down the small hallway to the bedroom, leaving Keith standing in the kitchen alone, mug poised to his lips to take another sip. 

_What._

He furrows his brows and follows Shiro down the hall, calling after him. 

“Shiro? Where are you goi- oh, hey.” Keith stops at the mouth of the bedroom, skidding to a stop and almost spilling his coffee so he didn’t collide with the wide chest that was suddenly in front of him. A quick glance downward let him see what Shiro had in his hands and the sight makes his heart stutter. He’d recognize that brown leather anywhere. 

“Right after we got back, Iverson told me the Garrison still had my stuff from before Kerberos in a storage unit, even after being taken by the Galra and everything.” he explained, eyes down on the jacket, fiddling with the lapels. “I was actually thinking of donating a lot of it to one of the refugee camps since a lot of it’s too small for me now considering, ya know,” he shrugs, making a vague gesture at himself. 

Keith knows what he means. A year in the arena, becoming the Champion, fighting to survive just one more day had him packing on muscle. Shiro had always been a powerhouse since he’d first known him; wide, broad shoulders, big biceps, thick quads; some in part of the basic Garrison training, but most due to his own independent exercises to keep his body in check from the disease. Busting him out of the pop-up quarantine zone after he crash landed back onto Earth gave Keith an eyeful of the added mass on his body, the prison outfit doing nothing to hide it; replacing the bodysuit with his dad’s old vest and pants didn’t help at all. On top of all of that, there’s the big floating arm that doesn’t exactly fit in standard sleeves anymore; all of Shiro’s shirts have to be tailored without a right sleeve to fit underneath the metal bracketing on his shoulder.

Makes for stealing his shirts and hoodies a little bit harder, Keith laments.

Keith reaches out and puts his hand on Shiro’s bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze (a thinly veiled excuse just so that he could feel all that corded muscle, he knows) and comes forward a half step, his eyes soft as he gazes on Shiro’s face. Shiro keeps his eyes for a second before they flickered back down to the brown jacket in his hands.

Keith makes sure to twist his smile into something soft, keeping his voice low as he murmurs into the space between them. 

“Since you put on a few pounds?” 

“I—” Shiro sputters before pressing his lips together, suppressing a smile. “Exactly, yeah. Nothing to do with the big, floating metal arm powered by a magic crystal from the tiara of a space princess. Everything to do with my swol muscles.”

“...What does that even mean?”

“I’m _swol_ , Keith. It’s what all the cool kids say when I lead seven A.M. PT. They know what they’re talking about.” 

“Are you serious.” 

“ _Dumby_ thicc, two C’s, Keith.” 

“You’re an admiral, they better be keeping that to themselves. I’ll throw a sixteen-year-old, I don’t care—” 

“Can hear my cheeks clap from a mile away—” He bursts out laughing, Keith’s face absolutely scandalized as he reaches up with one hand to grip Shiro’s jaw and drag him to his level, his elongated groan of _‘Stoo-oop’_ being pressed against Shiro’s open mouth. An obnoxious wet kiss to Keith’s pouted lips actually smooths the crease between his brows and makes the corner of his lips twitch upward. Keith leans forward again and stuffs his face under Shiro’s chin. He mumbles something low and soft, Shiro didn’t catch it. 

“Say that again, baby?” he asks sweetly, wrapping his arms around broadened shoulders, bring him in close. Keith automatically brings both arms around Shiro’s waist, fisting one hand in his grey uniform while keeping the other with his coffee mug elevated away.

Keith huffs and turns his face out of his place in Shiro’s neck enough to say, “I said, you’re perfect, is all. I like your big, dumb muscles and metal arm. It’s you.” 

Oh. 

“You sweet thing, thank you,” he whispers, burying his face in that wild dark hair. Keith hums and reciprocates, placing a kiss on Shiro’s throat.

They stay like this for a while, taking in the moment and just feeling each other’s warmth. Shiro starts to feel a slight burn behind his eyes, almost overwhelmed because Keith loves so wholly and purely, and he chose to give that love Shiro. Being on the receiving end of it is surreal, at times. 

Thankfully, he doesn't have to embarrass himself because Keith, true to form, goes and quips, “ _This got sappy real fast_ ,” before untangling himself from the embrace, albeit slowly and not without sneaking another kiss to his neck. His face comes back into view, a light flush over his nose and eyes bright. Shiro winks and flashes a soft smile before he balks and remembers what they were talking about before.

“You’re distracting me, I was going to give you something,” he chuckles and brings the jacket front and center. Keith’s eyebrows shoot up and he straightens his back. 

“Wait, really?” 

“Well, yeah,” he laughs, “it’s not like it fits me anymore. I almost forgot about it because we’ve been so busy, but of all the things I still have, I don't want this to go to just anyone.” He explains and extends it to Keith. He could see the hesitation in his face and playfully rolls his eyes. 

“Keith,” he says, Keith’s wide eyes shooting to his. Shiro raises a brow and reaches for the coffee mug, “Gimme this, try it on. I want you to have it.” Plucking the mug from his hand and setting it down, Shiro gently replaces it with the jacket and nods towards a long mirror on the wall by the closet. Keith’s eyes shoot between the jacket in his hand and Shiro before slowly padding into the room towards the mirror, Shiro’s eyes on him the whole time. 

Once upon a time, Shiro let a much younger and smaller Keith try the jacket on when out on one of their hoverbike rides and had to smother a laugh behind his hand. At the time, the sleeves had been too long, completely covering his hands and the hem almost at mid-thigh. Keith had laughed and spread out his arms, his face split in a wide smile that made Shiro’s chest warm. He had taken a picture of that moment, wanting to keep that smile alive forever. He’d have to find that.

But now, once his arms are through and the leather sits on his shoulders, all the air punches out from Shiro’s lungs. The jacket’s still a little big on Keith, a little bit of room left to fill in the shoulders, but it does nothing to stop his blood from running white hot as he takes him in: beautiful, stunning, loving, precious Keith in _his_ jacket, dog tags with _T. Shirogane_ sitting on that broadened chest, an old white v-neck, and a ratty pair of black jeans that have no business making his ass look that good. His mouth is aching to take a bite out of those thighs. 

He’s going to die, _again_ , and this time it’s all Keith’s fault.

Keith’s eyes are down, fidgeting with the cuffs and the zipper, intent on not looking at Shiro by the door until arms come around his waist and shoo his hands away, going to zip it for him. He starts, not hearing Shiro come up behind him, but now he sees him in the mirror, his large frame leaning to reach around him and fiddle with the zipper, warm breath wafting over his neck and gunmetal eyes laser focused on the task at hand. Keith can’t stop his body from shuddering and leans into the firm body behind him, his blood going hot when Shiro hums at the contact. 

“This looks good on you,” he murmurs, zipping it halfway closed then smoothing his hands down the sides before resting lightly on his hips. Keith bites his lip. 

“You think so?” he asks, equally as quiet as Shiro. He purses his lips and arches a brow, examining himself closer. “It’s still a little big,” he grumbles, shifting his shoulders up and down. 

Shiro’s gaze burns into the mirror, zeroing in on those pouty lips before he laughs, more air being forced out than sound. He turns his face into Keith’s neck and starts laying down hot kisses on that slender throat. 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart, you’ll fill it out in no time.” 

Keith’s eyes flutter shut and he lets his head fall back onto Shiro’s shoulder, giving him more access to the skin on his neck which he greedily begins to devour, sucking a spot beneath his ear and jaw and licking a hot strip along the length of his throat. Keith’s breaths being to come faster and heavier and he’s dizzy with how good it feels. He grapples for traction and twists his hand in Shiro’s hair. 

This was starting to feel a lot different than every other time he and Shiro were together. Taking their relationship slow up until this point was fine; it just meant that every time they made out, every time Keith crawled on top of Shiro’s lap on the couch, every time Shiro hoisted him up onto the counter and fit himself between Keith’s open legs, the heat got hotter and more intense. It’s been building for a long time, finally coming out in the underlying frantic pace Shiro has set to mouthing at his neck, his large metal hand open wide on Keith’s stomach, pulling him to be flush with his body and his other hand in the back pocket of his jeans, taking a handful of his ass and _squeezing_. 

He twists his body against Shiro’s to turn himself around, pulling a disgruntled sound from him, before cupping his jaw with both hands. Shiro’s lips are puffy and red, shiny with spit from eating at Keith’s neck. His face was a pretty shade of pink, emphasizing the scar across his nose and his starlight hair in disarray thanks to Keith. Fuck, was he a sight to behold. He’s seen Shiro flushed with swollen lips, made sure on many nights that that mouth was thoroughly explored and loved, but the smoldering heat in those grey eyes and wide pupils is new and it’s sending heat straight down Keith’s spine. That bottom lip was begging for him to sink his teeth into it. Keith let out a quiet whine. 

“Jesus, Shiro,” he whispers and pulls him in for searing, wet kiss. It’s wild, all tongue and no finesse. Keith’s hands continue to frame Shiro’s jaw, turning his head this way and that to dive deeper, licking at the roof of his mouth and sucking on his tongue. Shiro’s hands nomadically roam over Keith’s body, smoothing down his stomach, bunching up the jacket in the back, tugging at his hair then making a final stop at his ass, taking large handfuls of plump, muscled flesh earning a wobbly whine from Keith. 

A snap decision leads his hands further south, getting a firm grip on the upper thighs and hauling up. Keith helps with an effortless flex of his legs, and suddenly the air is stifling as lithe thighs squeeze around Shiro’s waist and he now has to tilt his head upwards to lick into Keith’s mouth.

Hips on hips, they’re both suddenly aware of each other’s arousal, and a growl rips from deep in Shiro’s chest. The air gets punched from Keith’s lungs when his back is forced against the mirror hanging on the wall, the frame clattering with the movement. 

Keith leans back from his lips, taking in air and trying to reign himself in while Shiro finds a home in Keith’s neck again, sucking on his Adam’s apple and following the movement as it bobs with every intake of breath and swallow. 

“Shiro…” he rasped, leaning his head back against the mirror and cards his hands through white hair. 

Shiro took one last long suck on his throat before pulling back. He leans closer to his face, planting a peck on Keith’s chin. 

“You okay, baby?” he breathes, voice raspy and rough. Keith grins. He sounds just as wrecked as Keith feels. He wonders how his neck looks. 

He hums and brings his head back down to gaze at his man. The grey in Shiro’s eyes is almost completely gone, his pupils so blown out. He looks a mess and Keith’s never seen him look more stunning. 

His grin softens to a light tilt of lips and there was nothing he could do about his heart melting in his chest. He knows he probably looks like a lovesick idiot but he couldn’t give two shits about it because Shiro looks the exact same.

Shiro’s eyelids flutter when Keith places a butterfly kiss on his lips. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m good,” he murmurs, planting more soft kisses. He pushes Shiro’s hair back from his forehead, passing his hand through the soft locks and letting it come to rest at the nape of his neck. The hair flops forward again, tickling their faces. Shiro grins against swollen, pink lips. 

“Good, that’s good.” He brings his hand up to Keith’s face and tucks a lock of black hair behind his ear, letting his prosthetic be the support under Keith’s thighs. Shiro leans his forehead against his, breathing in and steadying himself. He swallows. 

“I wanna make love to you.” Barely a whisper, but Keith hears it. His heart kicks against his chest and his breath stutters. Shiro doesn’t look away, tracing his jaw and the scar on his cheek. Keith’s eyes flutter and he leans into the touch. 

“Wanna feel you, wanna take care of you. Make you feel so good, like you deserve.” He pecks his lips, gazes still locked, “Will you let me? Let me love you?” 

He’s trying to make a case for himself, as if there’s some chance in hell Keith doesn’t want this. Keith almost rolls his eyes, but he keeps steady eye contact as he grasps the wrist of the hand still on his face, keeping his other hand on the back of Shiro’s head, and grinds his hips down. He makes sure Shiro doesn’t look away as he does it again, slower and harder, fire licking down his spine when Shiro’s mouth drops open silently, hips bucking up into him. They moan into each other’s mouths, breathless from the slightest contact. 

“God, yes,” he breathes. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

“ ‘kashi, please.” 

Shiro chokes, eyes wide. He whines, nods, and presses a hot kiss to Keith's mouth and shifts him away from the wall. Metal arm still under his ass and the other on his back, Shiro walks them over to the bed and kneels on the surface, gently depositing Keith onto the plush comforter while still situated between his legs. Shiro plants his left hand by Keith’s shoulder and lets his right graze the thigh that’s hooked on his hip, raking his eyes over Keith’s flushed face and chest, the tags glistening in the low light of the room as they rise and fall with each breath. Inky black hair lays in feathery tendrils on the sheets and the jacket fitting snug on his waist. 

He hums appreciatively; this beautiful creature has brought him back from the brink far more times than he can count, and despite the complete disaster Shiro is, Keith wants him in his life. If he was religious, he’d pray to whatever entity that guiding him to Keith, forever grateful for this gift. Who could've known that the heartbroken teenager he took a chance on so long ago would eventually become his whole universe. 

Keith notices him stalling and arches an eyebrow. Shiro grins and knows he’s been caught.

He shakes his head and brings his hand to the zipper of the jacket to pull it down. Keith snorts and elevates himself to his elbows while Shiro undoes the jacket.

“I just put this on,” he teases. There’s a sexy little smirk on his face and Shiro can think of a few ways to wipe it clean off. 

He clicks his tongue as he finishes his task and flicks the jacket open, revealing the rest of Keith’s torso, the hem of the v-neck riding up to allow a sliver of smooth skin to peek out. He sneaks his hands under the edge of the shirt and presses his thumbs lightly into Keith’s belly right under the belly button, feeling his abs flex under the coarse trail of hair before he lets up the pressure and smooths over the skin. A little moan comes from Keith as he mouths at the exposed skin before he sneaks his hands higher, bringing the shirt up along with them. 

Shiro hums in affirmation as his hands continue their slow journey upward, taking the time to just feel his skin and the muscles as they shift under his touch. Keith shivers at the contrasting feeling of warm skin and metal making their way up his body and he moans again, louder this time, when Shiro thumbs at his nipples. 

“Yeah, yeah you did, and you’re gonna keep it on.” His voice is pitched lower now, the sight of Keith arching under his touch and the dirty moans coming from his throat has Shiro’s body on fire. He’s barely even touching him and Keith’s squirming this way and that, his hips shifting to find some sort of friction for the straining cock in his jeans. The fabric is stretched over it, outlining the long thickness and Shiro feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He groans and feels his own heavy cock ache between his legs. Keith really is going to kill him and they’ve barely started. 

Keith laughs, a little breathless. “This is really doing it for you, huh? Maybe I should have worn your clothes earlier if it was gonna work you up like this.” He teases again before he throws his head back and moans as Shiro runs a warm palm over his cock and gives a light squeeze, eyes rolling back and back arching off the bed. Shiro smirks as he reaches to pop the button of the jeans. 

“I’d say you’re just as far gone as I am, baby,” he murmurs, hooking his fingers in the belt loops and tugging. “And as good as these look on you, let’s get ‘em off. I needed you naked, like, yesterday.” 

They work the jeans down his legs slowly and Shiro nearly blacks out with how fast all the blood flees his brain seeing that Keith isn’t wearing anything underneath. He chucks them aimlessly onto the floor and claims a ravenous kiss, desperate for something to ground him before he loses his mind. He can feel Keith smile against his lips and he knows he’s done for. 

Shiro leans back just enough to disconnect their lips and Keith attempts to follow, miffed at the lost contact. 

“Holy shit. You go commando a lot?” 

“No?” He wiggles on the bed. “Wasn’t sure if you wanted to do more so I thought....” he trails off, shrugging one shoulder, fidgeting with the bars on Shiro’s uniform. “I thought, you like when I wear those so maybe if I got you going enough...? I don’t know.” He mumbles, eyes flicking everywhere on Shiro’s face, except his eyes. 

Shiro’s heart squeezes. 

“Keith, sweetheart…” he sighs happily, nosing under his jaw and laying down butterfly kisses on his pulse point. “You can ask for these things, baby. You don’t have to seduce me, you know.”

“I know. I—” He cuts off, swallowing hard. He turns his head away, looking at anything that wasn’t the man on top of him. His hands fist the sides of Shiro’s crumpled uniform jacket. “I didn’t wanna mess this up and scare you away. I’m no good at this.” 

“Keith…” He draws back, lifting a hand to turn Keith’s chin towards him so he can’t look away. His eyes are dark, resigned in his self-imposed doubt and it hurts to know he’s still waiting for Shiro to walk away.

“No, Keith. You’re doing just fine, you’re perfect. I could’ve asked you what you wanted just as well, it’s not your fault,” He smooths a thumb over the scar on his cheek. “I put a plasma burn on your skin that you’ll have forever, and you’re still here with me. You’re not afraid of me, you _saved_ me. There’s nothing you could do that would turn me away.” 

“That—” _wasn’t you_. He knows. They’ve had this talk before, weeks and weeks ago. Keith knows he doesn’t mean it that way. 

“Anything you want from me, baby, I’ll give to you. Just ask and it’s yours. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Shiro…” he whispers, reaching out and grasping the front of his grey uniform jacket. Shiro watches as his resolve returns, if only a little shakier than before. “This isn’t fair. I wanna see you, too...please.” 

“Anything for you,” he whispers back, immediately working out of the uniform.

Once bare, he nearly hesitates before laying flush with Keith, chest to chest, hips to hips, but Keith’s look of utter desire and wonderment has him abandoning any sort of self-conscious fears. 

With Keith, it’s easy as breathing to bare all without the suffocating fear of judgment overtaking him. Everything is easy with Keith.

They meet in a tender, slow kiss, taking their time licking into the other’s mouth. Keith sucks on Shiro’s tongue before giving his bottom lip a playful nip with sharp teeth, earning a deep groan from the man above him. His hands tease on Shiro’s ass and rakes his nails on each cheek, lightly catching on the stretch marks streaking across each mound like lightning causing him to gasp into his mouth and buck his hips. Shiro’s swollen cock is trapped alongside Keith’s, both smearing precome on their bellies. Shiro hikes Keith’s leg up again around his hip and _grinds_. 

“Ah! _Oh_ , Shiro...” Keith whimpers, scrambling to hold on as Shiro rocks them, the lengths of their cocks rubbing together in a mess of slick precum. 

“That feel good? Oh, fuck, _fuck yes_ , you feel amazing, so hard and wet for me. Tell me, tell me what you want, baby,” Shiro murmurs in his ear, hot damp breath sending shocks down his spine. Keith’s mouth drops open, his head knocked back on the sheets, his body being pushed up the bed by the force of Shiro’s thrusts against him. His mind is pleasantly blank, but he has to listen to Shiro, has to tell him-

“I-I , _ugh_ , I just want you, I don’t care, just gimme you,” he rambles, grinding his hips in time with Shiro’s, blindly seeking the warm friction from his body. He holds onto Shiro’s ass cheeks for dear life, marveling at the way the muscles flex under his skin.

Shiro slows their rocking and comes to a stop, smoothing the hair from Keith’s face to look at him. 

“Keith, baby. How do you want it, hm?” he soothes, rubbing his hands down his sides trying to bring him back down. “You wanna finish like this?” He rocks his hips, pulling a moan from both of them. 

“Maybe my hand? My mouth?” he suggests, sucking on a tender mark under Keith’s jaw he’d left sometime earlier. Keith’s hips buck, at both the sensitive spot Shiro’s worrying again and the promise of perfect, wet heat around him, and God does he want it. 

“I want it all. Give it all to me, Shiro, please,” he begs, nosing at the side of Shiro’s head to get to his face, pressing their foreheads together when he succeeds. He knows he by no means has to beg Shiro for anything, especially now, but he’s so hard and Shiro’s making him feel so good that he doesn’t give a shit about how he gets off because it’s _Shiro_ . He places a long, filthy kiss on Shiro's lips that has him moving his hips again, and drops his voice, “ _Ahh_. I want...I want you in me. Wanna come with you inside me.”

The heat in his face is ridiculous and he doesn’t know where the words tumbling out of him are coming from but they seem to do the trick.

“...Oh?"

Lightning fast movement has Keith’s hands pinned above his head. He swallows hard, Shiro’s change in demeanor making his skin flush and he feels his cock pulse. Shiro’s eyes are stormy with hunger, darting over the lithe body he has pinned under him.

“Honey, I’ll let you come however you want, as many times as you want,” he murmurs, taking his left hand away from where he has his wrists bound, his prosthetic easily encompassing both, and drags it down his torso, tracing scars as he goes. He doubles back and hikes the v-neck higher, making it settle above his pecs so the rest of his stomach and chest are exposed, then leans down to suck at hard brown nipples. Keith keens and chases the warmth of his mouth while Shiro’s hand continues its journey south. He dips a finger into Keith’s naval, making his belly hollow out before tracing the dark line of hair below it to the base of his cock. He courses his fingers through the wiry, thick hair, teasing around the base. Keith’s hips raise in an attempt to get closer and make solid contact and Shiro grants mercy.

Taking hold of his cock, Shiro lets himself just feel Keith before moving, the engorged flesh heavy and warm in his palm. His mouth waters when he gives an experimental tug and thumbs at the flushed head which makes Keith’s back arch prettily off the bed, moaning quietly into the crook of his arm. He repeats the motion, tightening his grip, and Keith arches again but can’t quite muffle his sounds as well with how loud they’re becoming. 

Shiro continues like this, running his hand over Keith’s cock, learning what he likes and doesn’t so much, what makes him keen and what makes his breath hitch in his throat. Shiro never takes his eyes off of him, memorizing the way his muscles flex as he twists and arches, the scrunch of his face as he loses himself in the pleasure, panting and moaning, little staccato _Shiro’_ s falling in the mix. He’s so sensitive, and it doesn’t take too long to get him to the point where his moans are coming out higher pitched, his hips moving with the rhythm of Shiro’s hand more desperately than before, biting his bottom lip to stifle his moans. Shiro leans in to tug it loose with his own mouth so he can swallow them down. He’s close and Shiro’s going to take him there. 

“You feelin’ good?” he murmurs, teasing his thumb just under the head, rubbing firm little circles there until the drop leaking from the tip runs in long, milky strands. The hips below him jerk, a quiet sob escaping Keith’s chest as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“M’close, _oh God_ I’m so close, Shiro. Stop or I’m gonna _come_ ,” he hiccups, halfheartedly fighting the hand still restraining his wrists, the speed of his breathing increasing and becoming irregular. He and Shiro both know he could break the hold easily and Shiro would yield to him, always. Shiro gently shushes him and leans in to kiss at his jawline, moving towards the earlobe and taking it in his mouth. 

“Come for me, sweetheart, I’ve got you. Let yourself feel good, it’s okay,” he breathed into his neck, sucking at the dip of his collar bone. 

Keith’s breath hitched in his chest, eyes rolling back as the pleasure comes to a head. With his balls tightening up and heavy cock twitching, he comes with a pained whine. White cum squirts onto his stomach between them, some rocketing up to his sternum and some dribbling down onto Shiro’s hand.

“ _Ugh_ , there you go,” Shiro moans, looking down between their bodies to watch him come. “You’re so good, coming for me. How much more can you give me, hm?” 

Shiro continues stroking him, making him ride it out until he’s dry and trying to curl into himself, whining when the feeling becomes too much. Shiro lets go of both his softening cock and his wrists, pulling back to give him room to breathe and come down, combing his metal fingers through Keith’s hair and smoothing it away from his face. He makes a face before he wipes the cum off his other hand onto the comforter, then grabs some more of the fabric to wipe Keith’s stomach; sheets can always be washed.

Slowly, Keith comes back to himself, flopping his arms down by his sides and lets out a breathless laugh. 

“Jesus, Shiro,” he stutters, “you literally just gave me a hand job and it still felt like my soul left my body, shit.”

Despite what they just did and the things that came out of his mouth, Shiro blushes up to the roots of his hair and down his chest. He self-consciously scratches the back of his neck and coughs to try and disguise the fact that he just choked on air. He’s not fooling Keith by the looks of it because his eyes have gone all crinkly around the edges trying to hold in a laugh. 

“Well,” he coughs again, “I’m-I’m glad, it’s good you felt good.” He pinches his eyes shut, mentally shaking his head. Dirty talk is apparently no problem, but being told he nearly made Keith astral project again because he came so hard is something else entirely. Coherent sentences are hard for him right now.

He hears Keith snort and feels hands cup his face, trying to angle it towards him. Shiro complies, leaning down where the hands guide him. Keith shifts his hands so his palms are squishing his cheeks together, making his lips purse like a fish. He opens his eyes to Keith eyeing him adoringly, his cheeks still flushed and hair a mess. He looks so good post coitous, all floppy limbs and lazy smile, the jacket askew on his form.

In the few months they’ve been together, he’s known Keith to be the softest version he’s ever experienced and he’ll never get used to every adoring gaze, every _I love you_ , every open laugh when they get into a towel whipping fight in the little kitchenette when they do dishes. Shiro’s had so much taken from him, but what he has now is everything he never knew to exist in their known universe. His vision blurs.

Keith pecks his fish lips and Shiro really can’t see now because his eyes scrunch up so much when he smiles while his face is being smooshed together. 

“It felt amazing, thank you,” Keith says to him.

His body goes warm with pride this time, but then suddenly his world is flipped around and now Keith’s perched on top of him, hands resting on Shiro’s pecs and ass right on top of his groin. He lets out a surprised groan and immediately tries to hold onto reality by grabbing at Keith’s hips. He looks so good on top of him; his shirt riding down now that he’s upright, the jacket falling off his shoulders, toned legs on either side of his hips. He’s still half hard, too, and the whole image sends fire down to Shiro’s cock and his toes. He twitches against Keith’s leg and watches his eyes dart to the movement before they meet his again. Keith swallows and squirms in his lap. 

Nerves. Shiro tries to ground him by running his hands up the thighs bracketing his hips. 

“Is it okay if I touch you, too?” Keith asks, his hands flexing on Shiro’s chest, but not daring to move until he has permission. 

Shiro feels something tighten around his heart. “Keith, baby, you don’t have to ask,” he takes a hand in his. “Touch all you want. I’m all yours,” he promises, kissing his fingers. 

Keith looks on in wonderment, lightly prodding at Shiro’s lips with the tips of his pointer and middle fingers, jaw going slack as he watches them disappear into the wet heat of his mouth. Grey eyes stared back half closed, keeping contact with Keith’s own as he sucks and swirls his tongue around the digits. 

“Oh, Shiro,” he moans. His cock is trying to get interested again and gives a half-hearted twitch between his legs. He goes to pull his fingers loose and Shiro lets him, giving them one last suck and lightly scraping his teeth on them as they go; a little preview and promise of something to come later. He watches in sinful fascination as Keith’s pupils blow out as the other hand on his chest squeezes his pec. 

For now, he leans down and trails kisses along protruding collarbones, sucking a large bruise into the junction between his shoulder and neck. Shiro moans softly and closes his eyes, absentmindedly running his hands over muscled thighs as Keith explores his skin, nipping and sucking down his neck and chest. He doesn’t care that Keith was leaving marks, considering the battlefield he left on his throat. Their uniforms will cover a lot, but not all. At this point, Shiro doesn’t care what others will see as long as he does his job of thoroughly loving the beautiful creature on top of him, consequences be damned. Do your worst, Iverson. 

Keith has a way of making him want to be reckless and wild and it’d be an insult to resist. He's not about to start disrespecting Keith like that. 

Keith continues his venture down his broad chest, mimicking what Shiro had done earlier to him and catches a nipple in his mouth while he teases the other with his fingers. Shiro can’t help the gasp that escapes his throat; Keith’s mouth is hot, electrifying the nerves in his skin and his tongue is soft as it circles the bud. He gently grazes his teeth over it as Shiro arches with a hiss. Keith feels those large hands seize on the underside of his legs, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs. 

Keith needs to shift his body so that he can get further down. He moves his legs to get in between Shiro’s, parting and settling them on top of his thighs while he settles on his haunches, knees digging into the bed again. He gives himself a second to take in this picture of Shiro: cheeks and chest flushed, breathing heavy as he grasps the sheets, eyes bright as they stare back at him, legs spread for Keith to fit right in like a puzzle piece finding its home. 

“You’re so beautiful, Shiro,” he whispers to him. Shiro tucks his head a little but doesn’t break their gaze, mouthing ‘ _thank you_ ’ back to him. Keith’s chest blooms with warmth.

Mouth finding skin again, he licks and pecks at Shiro’s sternum before traveling down to the ripples of his abs. The skin under his lips is riddled with scars but it’s soft and yielding under his touch. He tongues at the raised lines a little more than the rest of his stomach as he travels down. 

He reaches the trail of hair leading down to his cock. It’s white, unsurprisingly, just like the top of his head and his brows and it turns him on so much more than he thinks it should, but Shiro’s cock is _right there_ and that probably has something to do with it. Shiro’s cock is big, girthy and long, and Keith has never been more turned on in his life. Hot breath wafts over it and Shiro’s gets stuck in his chest. He squirms, trying to control the burning urge to lift his hips to press his cock to Keith’s mouth. 

Keith shifts one more time, moving to lay on the bed, spreading Shiro’s thick thighs with his shoulders and hooking his arms around them to keep them in place. Eyes locked and face hot, he experimentally licks a burning, wet line up the length of the thick cock. Shiro lets out a breathless _‘Fuck!’_ and brings his arms up to grip the pillow under his head.

Keith continues that way, exploring the taste of Shiro’s cock on his tongue, licking long stripes up and down. He mouths at the spot where the base meets his balls, sucking lightly on the prominent vein. Shiro tries to smother a whine in his arm as his hips jerk. Keith smiles and pins those prominent hips to the bed. 

He makes his way to the flushed tip, mesmerized by the dollop of precum that’s already leaked out. He flicks his tongue out to lap it up, the taste of salt spreading out in his mouth, and it has Keith immediately taking the tip fully between his lips. He sucks messily at the head, laving his tongue over the slit and under the foreskin to tease the crown.

Taking more of him in his mouth is a challenge, but he tries anyway. He doesn’t get halfway when the head butts the back of his throat uncomfortably, about making him choke. His mouth produces more saliva and it comes out the sides of his mouth as he eases back up and off to take a breath, a string connecting his lips to the tip before it snaps and splatters on his lip. It’s not long before he dives back in. 

“Keith — _fuck_ , baby, take your time, you don't have to rush.” Shiro gasps when the head hits the back of Keith’s throat again and gags. Shiro’s fingers brush Keith’s hair from his face, keeping it out of the way while he sucks and licks at the length of his cock. The sight of red swollen lips gliding over his cock, Keith nestled between his thighs as he goes down on him is the hottest thing Shiro’s ever seen.

“Don’t try and take it all, Keith. I — _unhh_ — don’t want you trying to do it, baby, it’s okay.” 

Keith takes his mouth off with a slight _pop!_ and his cock flops back onto his stomach with a wet smack. 

“Teach me how to make you feel good.” 

“You already were, baby. I just wanted you to slow down so you didn’t choke”

“Then teach me how to not choke.” The look he sends Shiro is playfully scathing as he leans down to mouth at the crown. It steals the breath from Shiro’s lungs and he laughs, tangling his fingers in Keith’s soft hair. 

“ _Brat_.” 

“Yours.”

“...mine,” he hums. He lightly pinches Keith’s chin between his fingers, tilting his head up, “C’mere, let me kiss you, you brat.” 

Warmth burns through his chest as he kisses Keith, who just can’t seem to stop snickering into his mouth. Shiro’s eyes crack open to take in the picture of Keith above him, flush against his chest and hair a mess from the amount of times Shiro’s run his hands through it. His cheeks are flushed and up close he can count the few little freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose and the stray one on his Cupid’s bow. Keith is a real stunner, arrestingly beautiful and it blows Shiro’s mind to be reminded that Keith really is his to have, to hold. 

“You’re stunning, baby.”

“Speak for yourself, big guy.” 

Keith slithers back down between powerful thighs, laying burning kisses on Shiro’s flushed skin as he goes. Goosebumps rise on his thighs as Keith smooths over them with his hands before hooking one over his shoulder. Feather light kisses on his inner thigh makes a sigh pass through Shiro’s lips.

Keith trails his kisses all the way to the junction of hip and leg and the proximity to Shiro’s cock has his mouth watering, aching to feel that thick heavy heat on his tongue again. 

Getting a hand around the base, he starts up again, taking a few minutes to mouth at the heavy balls below his cock, lightly sucking them in one by one, all the while getting drunk on Shiro’s whimpers and moans, every ‘ _oh fuck’_ and ‘ _Keeeith_ ’ making his blood pulse faster. He finally turns his attention to licking the entire length of Shiro’s cock root to tip to suckle the crown. Above him, Shiro lets out a quiet hiss. 

“Yeah, just like that, baby. Go slow and take your time,” he murmurs, his left hand weaving through black feathery locks again and pushing them from Keith’s face, “Work your hand around what you can’t— _unhh_ , god yes, you’ve got it.”

The weight of Shiro’s cock on his tongue is a feeling like no other and he’s addicted already. The velvet skin is so soft and warm and in combination with the salty dribbles of precum, it tastes like something close to heaven. His own cock starts to throb again between his own legs and he can’t resist the urge to drop his hips and grind into the mattress. He lets out a muffled moan, making Shiro gasp and buck his hips, pushing his cock further in Keith’s mouth. This time, he relaxes his throat to let it in, instinctively swallowing around the thickness. 

Shiro curses, his hand tightening in Keith’s hair as he tosses his head back, eyes closed and jaw slack.

“God, yes, Keith. That’s good, keep doing that. Tighten your grip a little—yeah, like that, just like that, _fuck_.” 

Keith finally builds up a comfortable rhythm, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks, swallowing around him every few strokes to hear Shiro hiss and moan. He brings his other hand up to fondle the sac at the base and the loud groan that echoes in their room makes his chest fill with smug pride. 

He continues on like that, alternating between bobbing his head and suckling just the head, slipping the tip of his tongue into the slit. The hand tugging and rolling his balls starts exploring lower, pressing at the spot just behind the sac and drawing a line down to the puckered hole. Shiro’s breathing stutters as he flails to grasp at the pillows by his head but it’s too late to muffle the sob that erupts from his chest. 

“Keith, Keith, fuck, baby—” He gasps as his back arches off the bed. He’s trying so hard not to buck his hips into the hot mouth that’s sucking his very soul out of his body, but he’s so close, the band in his lower belly is tightening, threatening to snap and the fire in his cock is spreading to the tips of his toes, igniting his entire lower body. 

Keith pops off and takes a couple breaths to fill his lungs. He continues stroking with his hand as he watches Shiro above him, his chest rising rapidly while he gasps into the crook of his arm, eyes screwed shut. 

Keith slows his hand and loosens the grip, mouthing at the part he couldn’t fit. 

“Think if you come now you’ll still be able to fuck me later, old timer?” he teases, his hot breath fanning over the wet skin making Shiro shake. Shiro wheezes, his laugh coming out breathless and quiet. 

“ _Holy shit_ ,” he whispers to the ceiling. He braves a glance down and he has to bite his lip. Keith’s eyes are molten, his lips red and swollen from gliding over his cock over and over, hair an absolute wreck from Shiro combing his fingers through it.

If he comes now he thinks he’ll probably pass out, but Keith is so hot and could probably go a couple rounds with his evident high stamina, and the promise of fucking into the scorching heat of his tight ass _fuckfuckfuck—_

And if there’s anything Keith likes, it’s a challenge. Shiro flashes him a smirk.

“Think you can get me interested enough if I do?”

Purple eyes flash as a feral grin shapes Keith’s lips. “Let’s find out, yeah?” 

Keith dives back in and Shiro’s smile gets wiped of his face when his cock gets swallowed down again. Keith pulls out all the stops and puts all his newly acquired cocksucking skills into absolutely ruining the man above him. 

Shiro’s orgasm sneaks up fast this time and he can’t stop the moans coming from his throat each higher in pitch, breathier than the last. He barely has the state of mind to warn him, but Keith stays firm, instead focusing on suckling the head while he works the rest with his hand. 

Shiro curses as his cock gives a hefty twitch before he starts to cum in Keith’s mouth. Thick ropes of cum surge onto Keith’s tongue and he instinctively starts to swallow, taking Shiro’s cock further in his mouth to milk as much from it as he can. Some of it escapes around his lips but he waits for Shiro’s cock to stop pulsing before chasing the cum running down the shaft. 

With all traces of white cum lapped up, Keith straightens up and rolls his shoulders before crawling up the bed to peck at Shiro’s chin. 

Shiro, on his end, is weightless and lightheaded, ears ringing while he tries to catch his breath. Distantly, he feels the warmth of Keith’s body hovering over him, his lips placing light, warm kisses on his chin and over his throat. 

When he regains enough sense, Shiro sighs and catches Keith’s face in his hands to guide him into a kiss. Keith makes a sound and tries pulling away, but gives in at Shiro’s murmuring _I don’t care, let me taste you, baby_ , moaning when Shiro immediately licks at the seam of his lips, coaxing them open to taste himself on Keith’s tongue. 

Kissing Keith is one of Shiro’s favorite things to do, one of his favorite things to taste; became absolutely addicted during their first kiss months ago, but now it’s mixed with the salty tang of his cum and he’s never wanted to devour through a kiss more than right now. 

They kiss until Shiro has thoroughly licked the taste of his cum from Keith’s mouth and the man above him is shaking. He pulls away, their lips separating with a wet smack, and opens his eyes. Keith’s are still closed, dazed and panting to regain the breath Shiro stole from his lungs. Shiro smiles and guides Keith to lie on his chest, tucking his face into his neck and arranging their legs to slot together.

Keith noses at his jaw, pressing a slow kiss there. “Was that okay?” he asks. His voice is scratchy and low, a little unsure. He’s tracing little patterns on Shiro’s bicep, light swirls over the skin making the muscle jump.

“It was so good, baby, you did amazing,” he assures him, breathless, landing a kiss on his head. “Way better than my first go-around.” 

Keith snorts and flicks Shiro’s bicep lightly. “Yeah right. Thanks, though.” 

“No, I’m serious!” he chuckles. “Why do you think I kept telling you to take your time with it? Because I didn’t, and that was a _mistake_.” 

Keith’s face scrunches up, confused but amused, and starts, “What did you do?”

Shiro stares at the ceiling, eyes wide and face completely blank, the memory flashing in his mind. He takes a deep breath. 

“ _I hurled all over him.”_

The abject horror in Shiro’s voice is too much and Keith has to hide his face in Shiro’s neck as his shoulders shake with breathless laughter. 

“You laugh now, but next time when I say ‘patience yields focus’ and ‘Slow down, Keith’, you better remember—” 

“Sto-op,” Keith hiccups, swatting at Shiro’s arm when it comes over and fingers prod at his ribs. He spies Shiro with a wide grin on his face as he watches him, his cheeks glowing with mild embarrassment. 

Shiro hums as he trails a hand down Keith’s back, feeling hard muscle under the old leather. His fingers tease the hem and slide under to feel warm skin and the dip of Keith’s spine just above his ass. Keith arches his back when Shiro presses more firmly and lets out a breathy moan when his still half hard cock grinds into Shiro’s hip. 

Shiro chuckles and walks his hand down to the curve of Keith’s ass, so round and pert and firm, the bain of Shiro’s existence since he started noticing Keith in a very different light in the early days of the Castle. First the Paladin armor suits that did nothing to compress or conceal that perfect backside, then the Blade of Marmora suit that absolutely destroyed Shiro’s peace of mind; even though Keith actually looked smaller in that suit, his lithe figure was on full display and Shiro spent far too many guilty showers with that image projected on the inside of his eyelids. 

When Keith came back from a two year journey in a time rift where he lived on a space whale with his _cosmic wolf_ and his _mother_ , his own clone couldn’t keep it together long enough to sting a sentence together without stuttering. 

Keith is the most devastatingly beautiful being he’s ever seen, whose ass he’ll worship til the end of his days. 

His fingers work faint traces over the skin, feeling, teasing, until Keith huffs and arches to push his ass full into Shiro’s hand and that’s when he grabs a handful. They moan together, delighted in the touch and Keith starts mouthing at Shiro’s throat, sucking a spot right up by his jaw. Shiro sighs, content in the feeling of his man’s mouth on his skin and lets his fingers dance closer to the cleft of Keith’s cheeks. 

“Hey…” he breathes, teasing a finger in between. Keith gasps and bucks into his leg. Shiro chuckles and slides his finger further down. “You still want me inside you?” 

Keith groans and pulls him down into a kiss, gets his tongue between Shiro’s lips and does that wicked flick that makes Shiro’s insides turn molten. Little pleas that come up his throat get eaten up by Shiro when he rolls them over and devours his mouth, the only sounds between them being gargled moans and wet smacking of lips. 

Shiro pulls away first, pleased at the flushed face of his boyfriend that’s traveled down his neck. He grins and pecks Keith’s pert little nose, amused that it scrunches up before he even touches it with his lips. 

“Is that a yes?”

“ _Yes_ , it’s a yes, please just—” Keith brings Shiro down for a hard press of lips. “Fuck me, Shiro.” 

“Okay, okay—” He pecks Keith’s lips, once, twice, can’t pull away. “Just-just let me—” 

He finally manages to pull himself away from Keith’s lips, addicting as they are when they’re swollen, red, delicious, _begging him to f—_

The drawer in his bedside table doesn’t have much, but in the very back he snatches the little bottle of lube. The next kiss is a slow slide of lips and teasing tongues. Shiro catches Keith’s bottom lip between his and gives a light suck and tug, making the man below him mewl into his mouth and lean to follow him. It becomes messy, their eagerness for more pushes them to touch and taste as much as possible.

It’s difficult to pull himself from the soft pliant mouth under his, with Keith arching under him and brushing their bodies together, grinding down on the thigh he planted between his legs. He’d do anything to stay in that moment, warm skin on skin, trading tender kisses like they have all the time in the world, but he can tell in Keith’s squirming that he wants more and Shiro is inclined to oblige. 

He pulls back with a smack of lips and searches dazed mauve eyes. 

“Ready?” 

Keith nods.

“Okay. Turn over for me, baby,” he says. “Hand me that pillow?” 

Keith lightly smacks him in the chest with it before he flips over, earning a laugh and a pillow smack on the ass. He taps Keith’s hip to get him to lift up so he can situate it under him and his mouth goes dry as he watches Keith’s back arch and legs flex with the lifting of his hips, his ass on display so prettily, lithe muscles rippling under his skin. Little twin dimples peek at him from under the hem of the jacket at the base of his spine and he doesn’t know if he wants to strip him bear or have him keep it on. 

The decision is made for him when Keith buries his nose into the leather on his arm and moans, grinding his hips down into the pillow. 

“ _God_ , baby, look at you,” Shiro whimpers, going in to kiss his spine, nosing the fabric away to get at more skin. His hands grasp at his legs where his cheeks meet thigh, the curve of each cheek framed between forefinger and thumb. Keith groans again, pushing back into his hands and making them slide higher to grasp his ass fully, fingers automatically digging into the firm flesh of them, plump skin spilling between long digits. 

“Shiro, please,” he softly pleads into the pillow of his arm. Half of his face is hidden as he looks over his shoulder, smoldering eyes piercing Shiro’s. 

“I’m getting there, baby, don’t worry. Let me open you up first,” he whispers into his damp skin. He wants to eat him out so bad, can feel his jaw trying to unhinge and his tongue pushes against his teeth. Shiro kisses down his spine to the top of the cleft of his cheeks, teases the skin with his tongue and lets it dip just in between. Keith’s hips buck and a quiet gasp escapes him, the wet tongue foreign on the sensitive area. His body wasn’t sure if it wanted to lean in for more or flinch away. 

“This okay?” Shiro forces himself upright and places a reassuring hand on Keith’s back. There’s a blush high and hot on Keith’s face, completely caught off guard but not put off. He nods, shifting his hips. 

“Yeah—” he swallows hard, nods. “Yeah, you just surprised me.” He buries his face in his arms and shrugs his shoulders, trying to hide even as he shifts to try to get Shiro to touch him again. “Just never had a tongue in my asshole before, ya know what I mean.” 

Shiro huffs a laugh and smoothes a thumb over Keith’s hip. 

“If you don’t like something or want to stop at any point, baby, you tell me and we’ll stop,” he gently reminds him, crawling up and hovering over Keith to look him in the eyes. “I love you, I want this to be good for you.” Shiro presses a kiss to his temple. “Talk to me, Keith.”

Keith bites his lip. 

“Keep going, Shiro,” he says, adjusting his hips on the pillow. “I want it...please.”

“Of course.” A final kiss to the temple and Shiro’s back down the bed, getting a hand on each cheek, spreading them and finally, _finally_ , licking a hot, wet stripe over the rim. A quiet gasp and flinching hips lure him in again, the next lick long and slow. He places a filthy kiss to the pucker, smoothing over with a lave of his tongue again.

He continues like this, pulling mewling moans and whines and stuttering breaths from Keith above him with filthy, imprecise flicks of his tongue and wet, sucking kisses to his hole. The first few moments Keith’s hips are still flinching, little movements that try to arch away from Shiro’s mouth and as much as his worrying heart tries to tell him otherwise, he knows that the first touches of unfamiliar fingers and a mouth feel hypersensitive, so Shiro takes his time. The taste that is so distinctively Keith has his eyes falling closed, his own moans crawling up his throat as he slowly devours.

He takes a break from Keith’s hole and travels downward, trailing kisses down his perineum and suckles at the heavy balls resting on the edge of the pillow under Keith’s hips, reaching a hand to untuck Keith’s cock from its place between the pillow and his body. He abandons Keith’s balls for his cock, cradling the thick appendage as he finally, finally, gets to tongue at the shaft, popping the head between his lips and giving a soft suck. It’s not the ideal position to suck him off for the first time, but there’ll be time to make up for that later; for now, he settles for swallowing down a few inches and the barest taste of Keith’s precum on his tongue. Judging by the noises Keith is whispering into the sheets, it’s more than enough and he can’t wait to properly lay him out and suck him dry. 

Shiro returns to Keith’s ass and this time, Keith relaxes into his licks and kisses with a sigh of his name, his hips pushing back into his mouth instead of flinching away. 

“Oh, good job, baby. So soft and relaxed for me,” he breathes.

Keith groans low and shifts onto his knees a little more. “It feels so good, Shiro. Fuck.” His hips buck with a wicked flick of Shiro’s tongue. “More. I want more, Shiro, please please please—” 

“Shhh, sweetheart. Shhh.” He tuts. The wide palm of his prosthetic hand smooths over Keith’s thigh in an attempt to quell the urgency, a little bit of distraction while his flesh fingers come up to trace the seam between his cheeks. In tandem with his tongue, his thumb presses to the pucker and is able to slide the tip just past the tight ring. The scorching, velvet inside of Keith’s ass makes his cock pulse with need and he groans, lapping eagerly at the ring and pushing his tongue inside alongside his thumb. Keith gasps then mewls, pushing his ass back onto Shiro’s tongue and finger for more, rolling his hips minutely with Shiro’s light thrusting as he loosens up. 

Shiro pops off and straightens up, catching his breath while he still teases his thumb just in and out, not only getting Keith used to his touch but also because he can’t stop, can’t wait to stretch him open and sink his cock in, feel Keith arch against him as he’s filled to the absolute brim, moans catching in his throat with every long stroke of his cock— 

He can’t shoot his arm to grab the lube fast enough. Flicking the cap open, he squeezes a giant glob out on two fingers and positions them right at Keith’s hole, not touching just yet. He glides his large metal hand up Keith’s back and sinks his fingers in soft strands at the base of his neck. Keith presses into the touch, humming so soft it almost sounds like a purr. One finger tucks some hair behind his ear. 

“I’m gonna start pressing in, okay? Gonna start with one finger and move up. Sound good?” 

“Mmhmm.” He hums as his eyes slide closed. 

Shiro takes his time getting Keith ready for him, slowly working the first finger in and out, twisting and curving to coat the walls and relax them. There’s too much lube which makes the whole thing messier, lines and lines of it running down between Keith’s legs every time he pushes in. Every push and pull of his finger earns him a soft sigh and a roll of the hips, and Shiro lets Keith fuck himself for a while until his sighs and soft mewls turn to louder whines and pleas. He teases the tip of the next finger at the ring of tight muscle before pushing in, slowing when Keith hisses softly. Shiro moves to distract him with soft touches to his thighs, barely-there kisses to his throat, and murmurs sweet encouragements in his ear. _You’re doing so good, baby, just relax for me. Yeah, just like that. Breathe for me, Keith, match me. Good, baby. You’re taking my fingers so well._

A couple crooks of his fingers finally lands on his prostate, and the moan Keith releases will haunt Shiro’s dreams and fantasies for months, at least, and suddenly his one and only mission is to make Keith make that sound _again_ . Keith agrees, arching his back and grinding his hips onto the pillow, frantic mumbles of ‘ _God, Shiro. Do that again, again,_ again’ tumble from his lips and all Shiro can do is obey, laying relentless prod after prod to the gland, mesmerized at the way the body below him squirms, the way inky tendrils of hair fall over his face as he pants into the sheets, a bright pink flush high on his cheeks. 

Stretching Keith out simultaneously feels like it goes on forever and only lasts just seconds; either way, by the time Shiro is content with it, he’s back to full hardness, cock heavy and aching, balls tight. Keith is whining, restless against the sheets trying to get Shiro to do _something_. 

“Shiro, c’mon, please—” 

“I know, baby, believe me,” he rasps, brushing Keith’s hair from his face and places frantic little kisses to his flushed cheek, laving the scar there with attention. “Get on your hands and knees for me, it’ll be easier that way.” 

While Shiro gets his cock lubed up, groaning when the slick warmth eases some of the ache, Keith languidly shifts upright to his knees and pulls off the jacket and shirt he’s had on the whole time. Shiro can’t help but bring Keith’s back flush with his chest once he tosses the articles unceremoniously onto the floor, finally feeling the full warmth of Keith’s skin on his. He guides him into a sloppy kiss, running his hands on every strip of skin he can while Keith shoves his hands into Shiro’s hair.

“Get hot?” he teases breathlessly when they finally part. Keith nods, a sweet little twitch to his lips. 

“Li’l bit, but I really just wanted to feel you.” 

“Mm.” Thick arms tighten around Keith’s torso as wet, scorching kisses trail down his throat and stop to suck at the junction of his shoulder. He gasps and his hips jerk, firmly seating Shiro’s cock in the valley of his cheeks and they groan together. 

“Mm, baby, yes.” Shiro hisses, squeezing slim hips and guiding them to roll against him. Keith sighs, soft as a whisper, and lets Shiro hold his hips still to grind on his ass, only letting out a small chirp of protest when Shiro separates them to bend him over onto his hands and knees. The cool surface of his prosthetic pets down his spine, encouraging it to relax and curl. 

Shiro slots in closer between his legs, adjusting them a little wider. He takes himself in hand, pulling a few slow, torturous strokes before checking in one more time. 

“You ready, Keith?” 

Keith peeks over his shoulder to look at him, blush high on his cheekbones. There’s a nervous little glint in his eyes that vanishes as soon as Shiro reaches for him, Keith twisting his body to catch the outreached hand. Shiro, sweet, gentle, loving Shiro, grazes his knuckles with a kiss so light it makes his heart flutter and chest tighten. He’s nodding his head immediately, all traces of nerves gone with one simple touch and a soft gaze. 

The first touch of the head of his dick to Keith’s hole is electrifying and he’s not even inside yet. Keith sucks in a breath and pushes back against him, encouraging him further. Shiro bites his lip, grips the base of his cock tighter, and presses in. 

The fat mushroom head pops in like a dream and they moan together. A full body shiver quakes through Shiro and it’s only thanks to his peak discipline that he doesn’t grip Keith’s hips and slam home in one full stroke. He’s so tight; scorching, delicious heat encompasses the head of his cock and he has to take a few breaths before pushing in slowly, inch by torturous inch, until his pelvis meets the soft pillow of Keith’s ass. 

Below him, Keith is gasping, small little whimpers escaping his lips as he adjusts to the cock filling him. He’s given up on staying upright and has folded down to press his cheek to the sheets, ass up and back arched like a cat.

“Shiro…” he whines. He gives the smallest roll of his hips, a small fraction of Shiro’s cock sliding out before it’s pressing back in, and the uncomfortable pressure was suddenly lightning in his blood. Shiro’s cock was stretching him open wide, the soft ridge of the cockhead scraping against his walls. The pleasure has him slack-jawed and panting, hips twitching and rolling, whining for Shiro to move. 

“Ohh, _fuck_.” He has an iron grip on Keith’s hips to keep him still because if he keeps moving like that he’ll come before they even get anywhere. When the wave passes and he’s sure he won’t come on the first stroke, he moves, pulling out almost all the way, feeling the way Keith’s channel clenches around him as he moves. He teases the opening with small movements, pulling the head of his cock almost all the way out before sliding it back in, feeling that velvet heat welcome him again, finally bottoming out when Keith actually growls at him.

Shiro wanted to start slow, do his best to not rock into him too hard so that Keith could get used to the stretch. A considerate thought, even though the reality was that Keith immediately pushed back to meet him thrust for thrust, eyes closed and panting, lithe fingers fisted in the sheets as his hips roll back on his cock, sucking Shiro right back into his sloppy wet cunt over and over. The muscles of his back flex with every move, every muscle glistening with sweat, long hair matting at the back of his neck. 

The whole image, paired with the soft sunset light coming from the partially opened blinds, paints Keith into something so ethereal, Shiro would gladly lay worship to him for the rest of his life. 

Shiro sputters to a stop and scoops Keith into his arms, bringing him upright on his knees, his sweaty back pressed flush with Shiro’s front. His chirp of confusion morphes into a long, breathy moan when Shiro resumes his pace.

Wet slaps of skin on skin echo softly off the walls in time with breathy, punched out moans. Every thrust has Keith scrambling for purchase of _something_ , a way to keep his head above the waves and waves of pleasure pulsing through his body; eventually, one finds the curve of Shiro’s neck while the other slots their fingers together at Keith’s hip. Shiro has shifted his stance on the bed, still on one knee with the other props up for better leverage and the new angle helps him finally hit Keith’s prostate. His breaths stutter and cut off, becoming choked off whimpers every time the fat head of Shiro’s cock hits the bundle of nerves, sending pulsing fire through his pelvis. 

“O-oh, oh fu-uck, Shiro. Gah, right th-there, right there, oh god.” Keith’s eyes screw shut as his jaw drops open, a high pitched, breathy whine birthing from his chest. 

“Yeah? Right there?” Shiro braces his metal forearm against Keith’s chest, firmly keeping him in place as Shiro begins to rail into him, aiming for that spot to get Keith to whine so pretty for him. “Jesus, Keith.” 

“Shi-it, god. _Shiro_.”

With every perfectly aimed thrust his body contracts around Shiro’s cock, drawing out a low groan from Shiro’s chest. They find the right rhythm together, their mewls and groans echoing in the bedroom as they rock. Keith’s head rolls back to rest on Shiro’s shoulder, panting towards the ceiling as his eyes slide closed, his hands closing around the large metal forearm bracing him against the broad chest behind him in an attempt to find some ground. 

The velvet heat around Shiro’s cock is excruciatingly blissful, somehow on both sides of too much and not enough. He lets his left hand wander down Keith’s chest, relishing in the soft skin stretched over hard muscle and the way he can feel the breaths stutter in his ribcage as Keith sobs with another drag over his prostate. His fingers dance lower, tracing the lines of firm abs, raised scars, and the trail of coarse hair under his navel, his touch feather-light and teasing. The hips below his hand buck in response and Shiro muffles a laugh in Keith’s shoulder. 

Every touch of his fingertips to his heated skin, every pillowed kiss laid to his throat, every powerful push of his cock sends sparks up and down his spine. There’s already a fire burning under his skin, spreading out from his abdomen to his toes, his face, his fingertips. A sting begins in the corners of his eyes, making him screw them shut to ease the burn and turn to bury his face in Shiro’s neck the best he can. Wet, scorching breath fills the space between his swollen, bitten lips and Shiro’s salty skin, each puff being forced from his lungs as Shiro rocks into him. Their bodies are flush together toe to head, the heat almost suffocating but Shiro keeps pressing little kisses to his cheek, his hair, whispering little assurances into his ear, _Yes, Keith, just like that, you feel so fucking good, fuck, let me hear how good you feel, you’re so goddamn beautiful, I love you so much—_

Through the haze of sweltering heat and shocks of pleasure with every drag of Shiro’s cock into his body, he feels a sharp pain in his fingertips and he presses a thumb to index finger only to feel the pinprick of a sharp nail almost pierce his skin. Panic resonates through his chest and his eyes shoot open to glance at his hands, immediately noticing how his vision is suddenly sharper, colors and outlines more vivid in the darkening room. 

“Shiro, Shiro, I feel—Shiro, _please_ ,” he begs though he’s not sure for what. His body is on fire, it’s burning, he’s _scared_. He grasps for Shiro’s arms, a way of trying to ground himself before he’s swallowed by the flames. Behind him, Shiro stutters before slowing to a grind, pushing as close to Keith as possible then comes to a complete stop.

Shiro’s thumb brushes over Keith’s clavicle as he coos into his hair, flattening his metal palm over Keith’s belly and feeling his stuttering breaths. He regulates his breathing and murmurs for Keith to match him. Minutes pass for Keith to calm, his body slumping back into Shiro’s chest and Shiro catches Keith’s hands in his, tangling their fingers together and crossing their arms over his chest. 

“Talk to me, baby,” he finally whispers. Keith exhales, the air stuttering out of his lungs. The cocoon of their bodies is warm, safe. “What’s going on?”

“I…” He swallows hard. “I think I started to turn… I panicked, I’m sorry,” he whispered. The only other time he felt the change happen was during their fight so many months ago, and even then the changes had been brief enough just so he could get the upper hand and then they were gone, the burn intense but quick, there and gone before he had any time to process. This time… felt so much different. The burn took longer to spread, starting in his core then flowing to his limbs. It would have been longer, more pronounced, and much harder to snap out of. 

Shiro, on the other hand, was already shaking his head, wrapping his arms tighter around Keith. 

“No, no, no, don’t be sorry. It’s part of who you are. You can be open with me, you know that.” He coos into his hair. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, not with me, and not of yourself. But if you want to stop, that’s okay. We can get you in a nice, hot bath, I’ll change the sheets, and we can watch that penguin documentary we found.” 

“Mmm.” He hums contemplatively. Keith takes a few deep breaths, relaxing into Shiro’s chest before pulling away, letting him slip from his body. Shiro, thinking that Keith wants to be done, pecks his shoulder and moves to slide off the bed and find a wet cloth to clean them with when Keith twists and flops onto his back on the bed, tugging Shiro with him. 

The move was so fluid, so easy for him to spin on the bed and slot a wide-eyed 220-pound wall of muscle between his legs and somehow not get crushed when Shiro almost doesn’t get a hand under him to stop from falling. Keith frames his face, pulling him into a languid kiss and rolling his body up into his. 

“I wanna fuck like this,” He breathes, lips brushing. “Need to see your face. Wanna kiss you while you fuck me.” 

Shiro’s head is nodding before he’s completely aware he’s even doing it, his brain blank to everything except how good kissing Keith feels, how good it is when Keith’s gets a hold of his tongue and sucks it deep into his mouth, rakes his sharp canines over his bottom lip while his sneaky hand gets between them and starts pulling Shiro’s cock in lazy, wet strokes. Shiro can’t help the way his hips follow that perfect calloused hand as it squeezes _just so_ around the flushed head, a string of precum gleaming in the light as it falls. Keith eats up every one of his moans and whimpers as he teases him and Shiro is helpless, literally caught by the balls and the only thing he can do is tangle his fingers into the hair at the base of Keith’s skull and hold on for dear life. 

“Baby, I can’t fuck you if you don’t — _ahh!_ — let go, you gotta let go or I’ll come and I’m pretty s-sure, _fuck_ , we don't want that right now.” 

Keith hums and gives him one last wicked stroke. Shiro takes a deep breath before reaching for the lube again with a shaky hand. He squirts another dollop out and smooths over his cock with a light hand, biting his lip when he swirls his palm over the glans. He shoots Keith a look under his bangs and a little smirk. “You’ll be the death of me, if this is any indication of how our sex life is gonna be.” 

Keith rolls his eyes even as a laugh bubbles passed his lips. Shiro settles between his thighs, his metal hand massaging the underside of his thigh. 

“Only shooting for _la petite mort_ , if that’s what you mean,” he quips as Shiro moves to start pushing in. He stops short, eyebrows bunched together and dick in his hand as he gives Keith another look. Keith inwardly preens. Shiro cracks first and he laughs. 

“That was a good one, actually. Since when do you know French?”

“French is easy.”

“Oh yeah? Speak to me like your French girls.”

“C’est la vie.”

“That’s hot.”

“Ratatouille.” 

“I changed my mind, there goes my dick, it’s gone.” 

Keith reaches for the metal fingers twirling his leg hairs and tangles them together. He brings their clasped hands to his lips, eyes locked with Shiro’s as he kisses the cool metallic surface before pressing the back of his metal hand over his chest. 

“Je t’aime.” 

Keith’s eyes shine beautifully in the fading light, surrounded by long lashes that suddenly have moisture clinging to them. Shiro can’t kiss him fast enough, can’t meld them together quick enough to stop the choked sound that comes from his chest, can’t stop the stinging behind his eyes as he bleeds everything into a single kiss. He cradles Keith’s scarred cheek with his hand and pulls back, still close enough to graze his lips with his own. The feelings in his chest are so close to the surface Keith has to see them in his eyes, has to know how much he loves him too, has to know he’s all Shiro wants for the rest of his life.

“Aishiteru.” 

He whispers it to him, so low no one else would have ever heard it, but Keith does. He does, and his eyes shine brighter than every star. He kisses him as Shiro finally pushes back inside, rocking them together slow and tender. They come together, gasping into each other’s mouths as the pleasure washes over in a wave, intense before a gentle warmth settles into their bones as they melt into together with kisses and light wandering hands. 

After a shower to wash off and that promised long soak in the tub, Shiro puts on sweats and slips one of his (non-altered) shirts over Keith’s head before he tugs him into the kitchenette.

He leaves Keith perched on the countertop with a glass of water while he prepares them plates of leftovers (i.e. the ones Hunk drops off a few days a week). He fumbles a few times, drops a few forks, spills the sauce on the counter when Keith grazes his foot on the inseam of his leg and every time he cocks his head over his shoulder to catch him, he’s picture perfect leaning back on one hand drinking from his glass, swinging his legs as he watches Space Wolf chase rabbits in his sleep in the living room. 

Shiro damn-near throws the plates in the microwave to reheat before he turns around and, oh, he’s caught him this time. Metal fingers wrap around his ankle and Keith can’t even look sorry. Leaned back on both hands now, he’s a smoldering, coy vision in Shiro’s loose grey t-shirt and _god_ , if that doesn’t do it. 

Using his leg as a lifeline, he brings himself to shore between Keith’s thighs, his wide hands sweeping slowly up to the hemline of the shirt as they sink into a kiss. Keith’s arms lazily circle Shiro’s neck and they kiss, and kiss, and kiss. 

Their food goes cold before they ever pull away, and then it goes cold again after he lifts Keith off the counter and sweeps him into a slow sway to music only they can hear, Keith’s face tucked into Shiro’s neck, his metal hand curled protectively around the nape of his neck. 

They don’t go to bed until hours later, not before they dance until Keith’s legs give out and Shiro finally gets his mouth on him and Keith’s thighs shake against his ears. They don’t sleep until the kisses they share in fresh sheets become light as a butterfly’s wing, until ‘I love you’ is ingrained in their vocal cords. It’s easy to let their eyelids fall, heads on one pillow and arms tucked together. Tomorrow will be theirs, and so will every day after.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! I've got this thing:
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/kaff_headache)
> 
> also a tumbr but who uses that anymore. 
> 
> <3


End file.
